


liar, liar

by adietxt



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Roronoa Zoro, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adietxt/pseuds/adietxt
Summary: “‘If you turn into a zombie, I won’t hesitate to kill you in a second’,” Sanji says, words echoing the Zoro in his memory.Zoro visibly stiffens at that.“What are you waiting for?” Sanji plows on, his grips on Zoro’s shoulders tighten. “I’m going to turn anytime now. What happened to our deal? You promised you’d kill me, you goddamnliar—”(A Post-Apocalyptic AU, and a promise Zoro can't keep.)





	liar, liar

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this wonderful art](https://twitter.com/mob0322/status/1030444810589503491) on twitter and I was instantly inspired. I never knew I had a thing for Zombies AU, but we learn something new about ourselves every day, huh.
> 
> If you're wondering what Zoro and Sanji are saying in that comic, [this tweet](https://twitter.com/viinsmoke/status/1030450546887483393) basically sums it up.

Zoro’s a goddamn _liar_.

That’s what he is.

Sanji distantly realizes that it could’ve been his last words. _Zoro’s a goddamn liar_ , that is. Not that he’d be able to say it out loud, considering his lungs feel like it’s submerged in water. He doesn’t think he got a punctured lung — the bite was nowhere near his chest, if he recalls correctly — but what _does_ he know about zombie science, really. For all he knows, people’s lungs do get filled with water — or blood, if you’re feeling grotesque — before getting turned.

And the point is. The point is. _Zoro’s a goddamn liar_ are some pretty good last words, if he could ever say them.

Because it’s the _truth_. Sanji remembers it clearly, as clear as a day, although days are rarely clear in this time of age. Sanji walking through deserted cities, fighting off those creatures, and seeing Zoro — like the fucking _primitive_ he was, killing zombies with a goddamn _sword_.

 _What kind of lame ass hair color is green,_  he’d said then. Remembers that being the first thing he told Zoro. In his defense, he hadn’t talked to another human being in three whole months that day — forgive him for forgetting a little bit about manners.

Any attempt at formality would’ve been thrown out of the window anyways as soon as Zoro turned to him, smirked, and replied with, _says the one with swirly eyebrows._

They had become enemies, then. But they had also become something else.

They travelled together since, because Zoro might be annoying and troublesome and downright _infuriating_ , but he was also _human_. And that was a personality trait that was getting rarer and rarer, these days.

Sanji’s getting sidetracked though. He’s not trying to be sentimental, but it’s kind of hard not to, considering he’s slowly losing blood, feeling his focus slip as the blood from his bite wound drips onto the ground beneath them, a slow yet steady, _drip, drip, drip_. Bite wounds from these creatures can’t be fully closed up by any human means, and _fucked_ if Sanji knows why.

He buries his face into the back of Zoro’s neck and finds enough strength to say, “you fucking liar.”

Zoro ignores him, opting to continue to trudge across the city. Where the directionless oaf is going, Sanji couldn’t care less. Not that he expects Zoro to be able to find whatever he’s looking for, anyway. If Sanji weren’t carried in a stupid piggyback ride, he would’ve kicked the moss brain in the head for wasting his time. “We had a deal,” he rasps.

Sanji closes his eyes, mind returning to the day they first met once again. Of Zoro, blood on his sword, in his eyes. As their arguments subsided, the swordsman’s expression turned serious, and he pointed his sword at Sanji as he said —

“‘If you turn into a zombie, I won’t hesitate to kill you in a second’,” Sanji says, words echoing the Zoro in his memory.

Zoro visibly stiffens at the words.

“What are you waiting for?” Sanji plows on, his grips on Zoro’s shoulders tighten. “I’m going to turn anytime now. What happened to our deal? You promised you’d kill me, you goddamn liar —”

“Shut up!” Zoro suddenly yells, and the rest of Sanji’s sentences dies in his lips.

Zoro’s words echo throughout the empty streets. Sanji could feel the arms carrying him begin to tremble, and he isn’t sure if it’s only because Zoro’s tired.

And fuck, Zoro must’ve been _exhausted_ right now. He’s been carrying Sanji’s bleeding ass for _hours_ now, running away from those creatures at times because both of his hands are too occupied to fight back. Too occupied hauling Sanji’s useless, dying body because he’s a lying liar who lies.

They had become enemies quickly, Sanji remembers. But they had become quicker friends.

(And somewhere along the way, they had become something else —)

Sanji lifts his hand, slowly, and runs it through Zoro’s hair. It’s surprisingly soft, delicate strands brushing against his fingers, and Sanji suddenly wishes he had more time — to be with Zoro, to get to know him more. To figure out this side of him that doesn’t clash against Sanji, the side that keeps them returning to each other. There’s something, threatening to burst against his ribcage, but it’s too late now. Everything is too late.

“Zoro,” he says, and this time he doesn’t raise his voice. Softly, almost like a whisper. “You have to let me go.”

He can feel Zoro’s grips on his legs tighten at that, his whole body going rigid. When Zoro speaks up, it’s a broken, “No.”

Stubborn oaf. _You’re killing yourself_ , Sanji thinks. He tries a different approach. “If I was in your place, I would’ve killed you.”

“No,” Zoro repeats, surer this time. “You wouldn’t.”

Sanji wouldn’t. They both know that.

A pair of bleeding hearts, aren’t they. Liars and over-sentimental bastards. Sanji could laugh at the irony if his heart doesn’t feel like breaking inside his chest.

There’s silence, for a moment, as Zoro continues to carry Sanji to god-knows-where. They’re usually good with silences, not needing a word to communicate to one another, but for once the silence is suffocating, thick with uncertainty.

Sanji shifts in Zoro’s hold, uneasy, and Zoro glances back. “You’re feeling uncomfortable, Cook?”

Uncomfortable. Zoro’s actually concerned that Sanji’s _uncomfortable_. “I’m fucking _dying_ , Zoro. Being uncomfortable is the least of my concerns right now —”

“You’re not going to die,” Zoro cuts, flatly. “I’m going to find you a doctor, and you’re not going to die.”

Sanji huffs, skeptical. “Where are you going to find us a doctor?”

“I know this kid. From, you know — _before_ ,” he says vaguely, but Sanji understands what he means. Before the virus outbreak. Before the world fell into chaos. Before. “His name’s Chopper. Real smart kid, was one of the youngest to be on this research team.”

“How could a neanderthal like you get to know this kid?” Sanji couldn’t help commenting, and Zoro turns his head to glare at him.

“Shut up. Like _you’re_ a genius,” he replies lamely. “Anyway, I remember him talking about the virus, long before it was known. Like, he _knew_ this was gonna happen. But more importantly, he talked about vaccines, too. Cures.”

Sanji tries not to pay much mind on Zoro’s story — there’s no _proof_ at all that there’s a cure out there, much less that this Chopper kid is the one who found it. The kid could be dead, for all they know. But Sanji can’t help the familiar feeling of _hope_ , unfurling inside his ribcage.

Sanji doesn’t believe in tall tales and empty hopes, but — he realizes with a start — he believes in Zoro. It’s the only thing he could believe in for a long time, after all.

“I’ll keep my end of the deal if you keep yours,” Zoro suddenly says.

Sanji frowns, for once unsure what the mosshead means. “Huh?”

“When we met,” Zoro says. “I told you, if you turn into a zombie, I’d kill you. And you said —”

Sanji remembers Zoro, pointing his bloodied sword at him. Remembers himself, taking a long drag on his cigarette, smirked, and said —

“‘I won’t turn into a shitty zombie’,” he says, repeating what his past self has said.

Zoro nods. “Keep that end of that deal, then, shit cook,” he says. “Or you’re a fucking liar.”

“That’s not how this works,” Sanji says, but he’s disagreeing for contrary’s sake. Zoro is clinging to his life like a stubborn kid, hands clasping tight, unwilling to part with the things he loves. And what an experience it is, to be loved so fiercely by this man. Sanji needs more time, to figure out his own feelings, to respond in kind.

So he wraps his arms around Zoro’s neck, holding onto him. “Don’t get lost on the way to the doctor, then.”

He can feel Zoro’s posture relaxing, his steps still heavy, but less so. “I never got lost, shit cook.”

What a fucking liar. “I’m going to live,” Sanji says instead, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“You better fucking be, or I’ll kill you,” Zoro says, and his words barely make sense, but Sanji hears the truth in between those lies anyways. _Live._

And Sanji will. He has a promise to keep, after all. And he’s no goddamn liar.


End file.
